


Born of the Void

by DemonzDust, TheorianDG



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Blood and Gore, Bottom Theo Raeken, Dark Magic, Dark Stiles, Dark fic, Dom Stiles, Dubcon Kissing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Home Invasion, Horror, M/M, Murder, Murderer Stiles, Physical Abuse, Post-Canon, Psychological Torture, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Steo, Sub Theo, Top Stiles Stilinski, Torture, sceo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonzDust/pseuds/DemonzDust, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheorianDG/pseuds/TheorianDG
Summary: There was a darkness dwelling within the spark. It grew within him, consumed him, till there was nothing left but a burning hunger for something that could never be sated within Scott's pack. Now he's free from the constraints of his former friends, he can explore his darkest urges and unlock his deepest potential. He's gone from Beacon Hills, but he's not alone. He took with him a token that wouldn't get in the way or ever have any right to judge. Theo Raeken may have been slowly earning his way back into the pack, but now he belongs to Stiles and Stiles alone.





	1. A Dark Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Much appreciation to DemonzDust and WhattheFridge for their assistance and feedback with this fic.

“You can’t be serious, I just saved your lives!” Stiles is livid. His eyes are wild with a savage animal-like fury, glistening with the threat of tears.

Scott can’t hold his back.

“You killed them Stiles, you killed all of them.” The alpha’s tears fell freely, mixing with the blood crusted on his face from the battle they’d barely won. A battle against a group of Wendigos they would’ve lost without Stiles intervening. Theo wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. “Some of them were just kids!” 

As Theo surveys the ground littered with bodies he finds that, yes, there are children around them. He can’t tell how old they might have been, their bodies, much like the adults among them, are burnt beyond recognition. 

Some are still burning, Theo can smell the unnatural magic of the fire even above the stench of melted skin and cooking meat. 

“They were going to kill you, Scott! Those kids would have eaten you alive!” Stiles looks to the rest of the pack. “Malia, you understand I had to do this, right?”

The uncertainty with which Malia meets his eyes is surprising. She’s leaning against thick tree trunk, still flinching from the vicious bites marks all over her body, staring at him as if he were a stranger. 

Out of everyone Theo had expected her to stand up for him. It not like she has a problem taking life even if she restrains herself out of respect for Scott. 

“They’re kids, Stiles.” She’s thinking of her sister. Theo sees the moment Stiles comes to the same conclusion and how it only frustrates him even further. “You went to far.”

Stiles doesn’t bother with Liam, instead he turns to Lydia. He takes a step towards her and not one of them misses the subtle flinch that she fails to suppress. It’s almost as though Theo can hear her heart breaking. 

Stiles raises his hands in an attempt to look harmless. But, only moments ago they’d watched him summon fire from his palms and mow down the Wendigo one by one. 

“Okay,” Stiles starts to give in, sorrowful and defeated. “I overdid it but you can’t just tell me to leave. It’s just one slip up, after everything I’ve-“ 

“What about the siren from last week?” Scott ask, quietly. 

“She was eating teenagers! How am I the bad guy for putting her down?” He starts pacing, occasionally kicking a corpse out of his way as he goes, completely ignorant to the shocked look on Scott's face as he does so. “I’m not sorry for that!”

“The dryad?” 

“Attacking joggers in the woods.”

“The fairy?” 

“Luring people into the realm of the fae. Do you even know what they do to humans they’ve taken?!”

Scott can’t look at him anymore and Theo doesn’t miss the way the alpha smells of pain, far greater than that of his physical wounds. 

“You can’t stop, Stiles and we don’t kill.” 

A few years back, a falling out like this would have pleased him. Not even he could have orchestrated a conflict so ripe with pain. But now he just wants it be over. He wants them to make up and find a way to make this work because together they’ve always been stronger. 

“It stops here, Stiles.” Scott’s words are firm and definite. Theo’s not sure how he manages to keep his voice so resolute, when they can all hear the anguish behind each syllable. “You need to go.” 

The words hang between them for a long moment. The fire around them flickers, from red to green, to at last settling on black. 

“Fine.” His tone is even, resigned and unwavering. “I’ll be gone in an hour. My dad’s still at work, so congrats big guy, you get to tell him you banished me. Good luck, Scott.” 

When Stiles is gone, when the sound of his footsteps becomes so faint there’s no longer a chance of him being able to hear them. It’s like something breaks, Scott falls forward on his knees, head in his hands and cries with such anguish Theo feels it in his bones. 

Malia and Liam are at his side the next second, trying to be strong, stroking his back and huddling close. Lydia slumps against a tree, curling in on herself, no doubt this many deaths has taken a heavy toll on her.

Theo keeps his distance.

It’s not his place but he has to say something, but he can’t just stand there passively and watch this happen. 

“Scott.” When Scott looks at him, it’s almost too much. There hadn’t been this much pain in Scott’s eyes even when Theo twisted his claws in the the alpha’s gut, death seemed like a kindness in comparison this. “Are you sure that was the right call?” 

Malia growls, claws out and begins to advance toward him. 

“Malia.” She stills as Scott stands, doing all he can despite the redness of his eyes. “He’s not worth it.” Theo refuses to let it show how much that stings. “And yes, I’m sure. It had to be done. For him almost as much as everyone else.” 

“I know I’m not exactly the poster child for good behavior but it’s Stiles. Can’t you just-“ 

“No Theo, I can’t. Not anymore!” Scott’s eyes flare bright red, Theo resists the urge to bare his neck in submission. “You don’t understand what’s been happening with Stiles, he’s just been getting worse and I don’t know what else to do.” 

This is news to him. Not that he ever expected the pack to tell him everything but when it came to Stiles, it seemed like information he should be privy to. “What do you mean worse?”

Scott tears up again, and Theo can’t help but feel that he should have dropped it and let them mourn. 

“Deaton stopped training Stiles because he felt something was off.” Scott went on.

Theo hadn’t even known Stiles had been training at all. 

“Once they unlocked his spark, he started looking into stronger magic. Just to see if he could. Deaton said the nature of his magic was getting darker, like he was being corrupted by his own power.” Scott’s misery is almost as pungent as the burning corpses around them. “I think we failed getting rid of the Nogitsune, I think some part of it is still inside him. He’s my best friend and I’d do anything to help him but, but the bodies keep piling up.”

“Other than the ones you just mentioned?” That was definitely something he should’ve been told about, how much information were they withholding from him? 

“Omegas, we’ve been dealing with a lot of them coming through town but lately all we find is their bodies.” He rubs at his eyes and Theo wants to comfort him, lie and tell him it’ll all be okay, but he has no right.  
Liam would bare his teeth at him if he took a step towards Scott while he was vulnerable like this, but he still can’t help wanting to be there for him. To make it better. 

It isn’t a new feeling. In the months he’s spent with the pack, he’s seen Scott go through strife and tragedy and bare all of it as if it didn’t hurt him. The hero, the leader, the True Alpha. He bore his pain in silence to not burden the others. The pack might be content to not notice, but Theo doesn’t have that luxury. He’d been the one to inflict some of that pain, and he’d seen how Scott strived to hide it. 

There was a time when that wouldn’t have mattered to Theo. A time when watching a proud creature like Scott be torn apart from the inside out would have been elating. Would have given him validation in the lies that he told himself to get by. But those days are getting farther and farther away from him.

And Scott had played no small part in that.

“We can’t say for sure that it’s Stiles, but they always stink of magic." Scott continues, heavily. “ I just can’t keep turning a blind eye if he’s hurting people.”

“I hurt people, Scott.” Theo confesses, they all know his sins and yet he somehow remains. Liam snarls at him but Theo pays him no mind, giving Scott his full attention. “I’m still here, you haven’t kicked me out.” 

Scott laughs, actually laughs even though he’s still crying. 

“Theo, what you did was wrong but you know that. Everything you did was for self preservation or because you wanted something but do you wanna know the worst part?” Scott strides forward, standing before Theo brimming with rage and sorrow. 

He knows Scott would never hurt him but he would be justified if he did so right now, no one would blame him.

“I forgive you.” It’s the last thing he possibly could have expected. “I forgive you for killing me and everything else you’ve done, but now I have to toss out my best friend and somehow I have to be okay with that. Noshiko was right, he is Void. Now more than ever because I didn’t see it and I let it get this bad, and I don’t think I can stop him without killing him. And I won’t be able to kill him...I just...I know that I couldn’t.”

Scott forgives him. It’s more than Theo deserves, Stiles is the only one who has been with Scott through from the very beginning. He should be relieved and a part of him is but there’s no denying that Stiles is the one they need, they’re just stuck with Theo. It’s Lydia who finally breaks the silence, a careful hand on Scott’s shoulder. 

“Let’s go, you don’t need to explain yourself to him anymore than you already have.” 

So they leave him there, like they always do. At the end of every battle, whether they’ve saved lives or failed, they leave him alone at the end of it all. Theo doesn’t know what to do, what to make of all this new information but then his phone buzzes to life in his pocket with a text.  
It’s from Stiles.

Stiles: My house now, not a request. 

&

He’s there within ten minutes. Anything to get away from the smell, to get away from the pack he didn’t know how to help. Unlike the majority of the pack, he doesn’t climb through the window, he knocks on the door and waits. The steady pattern of Stiles’ heartbeat draws near and Theo’s more than a little surprised that his heart is this calm so soon, too soon. Stiles has changed clothes, he has a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder as he pushes Theo aside and heads towards his Jeep. “What, did you call me over just to be a dick one last time?”

Stiles tosses his bag in the trunk and leans against it, scrutinizing Theo with cold objectivity like Theo’s a specimen under a microscope. 

“Get in, we’re leaving.”

“Excuse me?” Theo responds, incredulous. 

“You heard me.” Then Stiles is stalking forward until he’s standing within arms reach. “Get. In.”

Theo lets out a hollow laugh.

“He kicked you out, not me. Why the fuck should I go?”

Stiles smiles, eyes dark as he edges closer, practically looming over Theo. 

“Because it’s your fault, obviously.” 

“What are you-“

“At least that’s what they’ll say,” Stiles continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “Maybe not at first, but eventually they’ll blame you for what I’ve become.” 

Stiles drops a hand on his shoulder and suddenly it feels like he’s hurtling down a tunnel, visions clouding his mind. He sees Stiles running, terrified through the library with Donovan close behind, hungry and vengeful. He sees Donovan impaled and Stiles, horrified at what he’d done, he sees himself smiling as Stiles flees the scene. The vision fades and Stiles is still there, still so close holding onto him. 

“You sent Donovan after me, cause and effect. Your fault.”

He’s right. 

“No, I didn’t make you kill those others. That’s not my fault!” 

How could it be? He’d still been at the Dread Doctors beck and call. The plan might’ve been his, but it was them who wanted a wedge driven between Scott and Stiles to distract them. 

“Did you expect Donovan to kill me?” 

“...No.” 

Donovan was strong but he was an idiot, he wasn’t accustomed to what he’d become, he let his anger drive everything he did. He hadn’t stood chance.

Stiles leans closer, whispering in Theo’s ear. 

“Scott will never say anything but he’ll resent you for turning his best friend into a murderer.” Theo’s heart twists in his chest as Stiles’ poisonous wet lips brush against his ear. “Malia might tear you shreds. Lydia’s smart enough to torment you in a thousand ways and you’ll never know it’s her. Liam will feel what his alpha does magnified, let him get angry enough and maybe he’ll kill you this time instead of Scott. Come with me and you at least have a chance of not being a pariah.”

Stiles releases him and climbs into the Jeep, where he waits expectantly. From the expression on his face, he’s confident that Theo will follow. Theo looks at him, then at the road that lead back to Scott’s house, where the pack had gathered that morning, and he felt his chest start to slowly deflate.

Not even an hour ago Scott had told him the words that he had been aching to hear for months. Scott forgives him. Forgives him for turning his pack against him. Forgives him for killing him. Forgives him for things no one should ever have to forgive.

But would he be able to forgive him for turning Stiles into a monster?

No. That would be one thing that not even Scott could forgive.  
Stiles was right. He only just barely fit within the pack’s ranks. They didn’t call him pack, not officially. Scott maybe one day would have, but not now. Not with Stiles gone.

Every time Scott lays eyes on him, he’ll remember that it was Theo that gave Stiles his first taste of murder. He would be a constant reminder of the darkest day of Scott’s life. The person that ended his closest friendship.

Who couldn’t learn to hate that?

As the streetlights start to come on, Theo feels the last hope he had of having a home in Beacon Hills strangled within him. He climbs into the Jeep beside Stiles, and buckles himself in.

“I fucking hate you.” he says, and he means every word. 

Stiles grins and grabs him by the front of his shirt. He pulls Theo across the front seat, and Theo lets him.

“I hate you too but you’re what I’ve got right now.” 

At the first touch of his lips, Theo considers fighting but what’s point? He doesn’t kiss Stiles back but he doesn’t stop him ethier, Stiles’ fingers curl down the nape of his neck. Theo ignores the way it makes him shiver. 

Stiles moves away to start the Jeep, looking utterly pleased with himself. Theo understands why. Because even though Stiles has lost nearly everything, he still has what he really needs. He still has someone to control. 

“Alright, Theo.” Stiles voice is nearly cheerful. “Time to find out what we’re capable of without anyone holding us back.”

Theo lets out a small huff of breath and turns his head away from Stiles as the Jeep sputters out of the driveway. 

Sure, the pack didn’t fully trust them but he’d been making progress. He’s been building towards something. He had Scott’s forgiveness, and while that meant the world to him, it wasn’t enough keep him here. This isn’t what he wants but it’s better than the alternative. it’s better than winding up back with Tara.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned that this chapter, as well as much of the fic, will be quite dark.

Theo’s stomach turns as he ascends the red brick steps of the house. It stands ominously, amongst the other houses on the quiet street. The largest and most expensive house on the block, it’s tall bleak white walls seem to glow against the stark shadows cast over it’s crevices.

As he tucks a bag of Chinese takeout underneath his arm and turns the key to the lock in the front door he tunes his ears up to the bedroom where he’d left them, but part of him already knows.

There’s only one heartbeat in the house, and it’s beating contently.

There’s a growing taste of bile in his mouth as he makes his way into the home and up the two flights of polished wooden stairs to the bedroom. Their bedroom.

He knows what he’ll find, but when he pushes the door open and takes in the sight, all he can manage to do is stare.

“You gonna come back to bed or just stand there looking pretty?”

Theo looks at Stiles. He’s holding a cigarette aloofly between his long fingers, his slender figure hidden beneath the sheets from the waist down. If it weren’t for the blood covering his hands, spots of it loosely scattered across his face, he would look remarkable picturesque.

“I’m not getting in bed with a corpse, Stiles.”

Theo’s ashamed to admit he doesn’t remember the name of the guy sprawled out next to Stiles. Theo had actually believed that Stiles wanted to do something as simple as having a third for the night. The boy couldn’t have been more than eighteen.   
  
    They’d found him standing nervously at the bar and, with the promise of a fun night, Theo had managed to charm him into coming home with them. He’d been relieved when Stiles had asked him to pick up some food from the twenty-four hour Chinese place down the street, because it seemed as though Stiles had actually intended on keeping his promise.

“I thought you said we were going to let him go.” Theo says, setting the bag down onto the dresser.  
  
    “I don’t recall agreeing to that.” Stiles shrugs, taking the last drag of his cigarette, and extinguishing it on the boy’s body.   
  
    Theo pinches the bridge of his nose and sucks in a deep breath.

“You said, and I quote ‘let’s show the kid a good time, I promise not to carve him up like the last three.’”   
  
    “That does sound like something I would say.” Stiles rises from the bed, not bothering to cover himself as the sheet slips off his body. “I know what you’re thinking, I’m a total liar, right?”

He shouldn’t lean into it when Stiles touches him with those bloody hands, or when Stiles slides a finger along his cheek, but he can’t pull away. He knows what will happen if he does.

“But did you really believe me, baby boy?” The blood is still warm, the acrid metallic smell of it filling his senses.   
  
    “I don’t believe anything you say.” Theo holds Stiles gaze as he says it, wishing it were true but knowing the opposite all too well. He unwittingly lured this boy to his death, and he feels sick knowing it. Stiles had played him yet again.   
  
    Despite the sick feeling, Theo still has to bite back a groan at the rough tug of crimson tinted fingers tangled in his hair.

“I’m gonna kill you one day. You know that don’t you?” Stiles’ hot breath tickles his neck.

 _I deserve it._ Theo thinks to himself as his body begins to respond to Stiles’ touch.

“You believe that?” Stiles asks.  
  
    “Yeah, I do.” He kisses Stiles then, if only for the momentary surprise that flits across the human’s face. “But not today.”

Surviving Stiles is practically an everyday task, but one Theo is cut out for. Perfect for, in a sick sort of way. He’d been groomed for it from a young age, crafted by expert hands to feel apathy towards any life that wasn’t his own. It wasn’t till his time with Scott’s pack that he’d began to even know what it was like to feel anything real. Once that happened, he could no longer turn a switch inside himself and not care, but he knew how to make it _look_ that way.

Theo also isn’t stupid enough to not know that there is a difference between how he was back then, and how Stiles is now. Even at his worst, he only took life when necessary, when it served a purpose. Stiles isn’t like him or like the Dread Doctors. Stiles could kill on the slightest whim, and for no other reason than pleasure.

There’s only one reason Theo hasn’t yet fallen victim to Stiles’ seemingly insatiable bloodlust: the lucky fact that Stiles is easily distracted. And Theo is good at distracting people.   
  
    Stiles’ arms circle his neck and Theo feels suddenly claustrophobic.

“You’re lucky, you’re so damn pretty.” Stiles purrs when their lip break apart.

  
    Theo returns the embrace and feels the rising scent of arousal fill his senses as their flesh is pressed together.

He definitely doesn’t feel lucky.

“You still should’ve let him go. If you wanted someone to toy with we already have that girl in the basement.”   
  
    Stiles laughs.

“It felt like a guys kind of night this time around.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You do have a point though, I can have way more fun with that little omega downstairs.”

He looks at Theo then, not an ounce of humanity in those deep amber eyes and grins.

“You totally feel bad about this don’t you?”

Theo moves to turn away but Stiles captures his jaw in a vice-like grip, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“You so _do_ ! Oh my god. That’s so cute, Theo...”   
  
    “He’s only eighteen, Stiles!” Theo snaps. “I thought we agreed, no more kids! We have to draw the line somewhere.”

Of course, they had drawn this line before and like every other time before that Stiles had crossed it without uttering a single apology.   
  
    “Oh so it’s fine to fuck him when he’s barely legal but not kill him? How very hypocritical of you, Theo.” Stiles is blatantly mocking him.

He wants Theo to get mad and throw a punch or something that would let him retaliate in a way that he could later blame on Theo. Theo won’t let him have the satisfaction, and instead, steps back. Stiles lets him and leans back against the dresser.

He won’t give Stiles any more of a reaction. He knows it’ll only encourage him. They stand a few feet apart for several long moments, and eventually Stiles sighs.

“Fine, fine.” he throws his arms out with a flare. “I’ll fix the kid up and send him on his merry way but you owe me something for this, you got that?”  
  
    Theo nods and watches as Stiles steps over to the bed looking a petulant child that’s been told to clean his room. He places one hand on the headboard of the bed and the other over the boy’s corpse and winks at Theo before beginning a low chant. The headboard alights with several runes and glyphs, each more intricate than the last. Theo can’t even begin to understand what they mean.

This, in a way, is Stiles’ masterpiece of spell work. In the years since they left Beacon Hills, Stiles began experimenting with any bit of magic he could get his hands on regardless of how dark.

He calls this particular mesh of runes, _Rewind_. According to Stiles, it takes a massive amount of power and can only be performed where the runes are carved. It allows him to resurrect anyone under the conditions that they had died in the house, and had been dead for less than an hour.

Theo’s only seen him use it a handful of times and for that he’s grateful. Because although it’s fascinating to behold, every time he’s witnessed it a sickening suspicious wraps it’s way around his bones.

Not a day goes by that Stiles doesn’t pour some of his magic into the runes. He claims that it’s just to keep them strong. _“Just in case.”_ He always says as he does it.

But part of Theo knows that Stiles must have killed him at least once.

He can’t confirm it, there’s never any evidence, but there are times when Theo wakes up gasping for breath and Stiles is just there, looming.

 _I’m already dead._   
  
    Theo watches the boy’s chest cavity close, listens to bones knit themselves back together. From the look of it Stiles had just reached in and crushed his heart, simply tore past his ribs with ease. Like Tara. He’d never told Stiles about that, but could he know?

Theo wonders if the boy fought or if Stiles had done it so quickly, so efficiently, that he never even got a chance. The blood clinging to Stiles and the sheets peels away, swimming through the air as river of crimson before returning to its source. Color returns to his pale skin, Theo observes with morbid curiosity as the boy’s newly healed chest rises with his first shuddering breathe.

He startles, suddenly upright and grasping at his chest and in the next moment when the runes fade Stiles is kneeling on the bed at his side. “Hey, you nodded off there.” Stiles rubs a hand down his back, actually succeeding in calming him and Theo couldn’t be more disgusted with his false sincerity. “Probably just had a nightmare but you’re alright, aren’t you, Eric?”

Stiles actually knew his name. Stiles had mutilated him, and yet between the two of them only he had remembered. If possible, Theo’s shame multiplies as Eric looks to Stiles like he’s a fucking a godsend. “Yeah, I guess I did.” Eric smiles, his scent goes light and airy, he smells happy for christ sake. “Did you guys need me to leave?”

He says it so shyly, Theo wants to tell him yes. Leave, run, never fucking look back. “Of course not,” Stiles cooes sweetly, patting Eric on the head. “It’s still pretty late, wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out there, buddy.” Stiles steps away from the bed, clearly enjoying Eric’s very blatant looks of appreciation. “Besides, Theo here bought enough Chinese food for all of us. Wouldn’t want it going to waste, isn’t that right, Theo?”

 _I hate you_.

“Yeah, let’s eat.” The words tumble past Theo’s lips on automatic. Eric shuffles around, retrieving his boxers off the ground and slipping them on. Still so shy.

Theo has to get him out of here in one piece.

“Thanks.” Theo doesn’t respond, handing him a container of chicken chow mein. Stiles takes his own order of noodles and follows Eric back to the bed, where the two sit far too close enjoying their food.

“Y’know, you’re really cute, kid.” Stiles purposefully rakes his eyes over Eric, who blushes but scoots closer all the same. “Wanna go again before we all go to bed? Feel free to say no though, no pressure.” Stiles slurps up a stray noodle casually, as if he hadn’t killed this boy.

He knows Eric won’t say no something like that. Two hot older guys who weren’t total creeps? Not that they were that much older than him but still, it was a good offer.

“I’d like that.” Eric replies, trying to seem like its no big deal but Theo can read his scent how excited he is at the prospect.

Theo’s face must give something away, because before he can politely tell the boy to leave Stiles speaks again. Or rather he whispers, low enough that Eric won’t hear next to him but Theo picks up easily.

“Eat your food, come back to bed, and we’ll show Eric here a good time or I’ll pluck out his fucking eyes and push him into the streets naked.” Stiles never stops smiling, he turns back to Eric, not bothering to see Theo’s reaction because playing Theo like a fiddle is second nature by now.

Theo grabs his own food and heads over to the bed, careful to keep his claws hidden  because he can’t force them away. He’s a prisoner without a cage. The painful truth is he chose this, and he’s stuck no matter the consequence. So Theo smiles and pats Eric on the shoulder once he has his claws back under control.

He’s not a good person. Not by a long shot, not before he left with Stiles, and certainly not after all they’ve done, but he can do something good now. He can save this one.

 

~&~

 

“Thanks for last night, I was really nervous.” Eric says, pausing at the bottom of the stairs beside Theo. Stiles had tried to insist he stay for breakfast but he refused with the excuse of needed to study for a test. “I’ve never done this sort of thing before, not with a couple I mean.”

“Yeah, it can be a bit intimidating.” Theo agrees, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Stiles is still in the kitchen making pancakes. Unsure of how long Stiles’ placated mood will hold, he knows he has to get Eric out before he can be convinced to stay.

“You aren’t intimidating,” Eric leans into his space, he still smells like a mixture of him and Stiles. Theo smirks and pulls him into a one armed hug. He nearly has him out the front door when Sties voice calls to them from the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to leave without having at least a cup of coffee?” Stiles appears before them, a coffee pot and three mugs in his hands.

“Oh, I...yeah I guess I could have a quick cup…”

It only takes Eric a few moments to drain the mug of its contents, but to Theo it feels like hours.

_Come on kid, just let me help you get the fuck out of here._

Every moment they spend is a moment that Stiles could change his mind. Decide that he really did need to see Eric ripped apart and buried in the garage with the rest. A week after moving in the cement floor has been torn away to give Stiles access to the earth, where he planted them. “You never know when I might need a spare soul.” Bodies buried standing straight up, nothing but their rotting heads poking out of the dirt with their lips sewn shut.

But thankfully Stiles mood seems to hold. He smiles a sickeningly domestic smile as he pours generously amounts of batter onto the griddle and and asks questions about Eric’s classes. To the untrained eyes, he would appear as an actual human being.

Only Theo can see the danger that dances behind his calm and happy irises. Only Theo knows the power that crawls beneath his pale and delicate looking skin. Only Theo gets to live with the knowledge that _he’s_ the one that made Stiles this way. The one that applied that last bit of pressure that caused the flood to burst through the gates..

He’d given the void it’s first taste of murder, and now every crime that follows his every bit Theo’s as it is Stiles.

But not today. Today he could save one. Every once and a while Stiles lets him save one. The second Eric’s empty mug settles down onto the polished granite countertop Theo whisks him casually through the foyer and to the front door.

“You’re boyfriend? Husband?” Eric says, thoroughly apologetic as Theo opens the gates freedom. “He’s really hot but also kinda creepy.”

“You’re not wrong, trust me I know.” Theo forces himself to laugh, even though it isn’t even a little bit funny. “Now get out of here before he tries to drag you back to bed.”

Or the basement that might as well be a dungeon with the amount of chain and torture devices that Stiles keeps down there.

When Eric is finally gone, the door closed and bolted behind him, Theo exhales a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in.

Stiles is leaning against the wall when Theo turns, he could almost pass for normal in his Harry Potter-esque bathrobe and the thick rimmed glasses he only wears at home.

“Do you feel like a hero, Theo?”

No, he feels like a monster wrapped in human skin and it has nothing to do with his not so supernatural affliction. “It’s really cute when you try to be all good and shit.”

“Not hard to do with you around.” Theo retorts, scathingly.

Stiles places a hand on his chest, dramatic and theatrical to a fault.

“Oh Theo, you wound me.” Stiles nearly giggles, amused by his own actions.

He saunters across the room towards him, a malicious knowing smirk plastered across his lips. It’s somehow worse, that Stiles isn’t near him, isn’t touching him to ground him in this shitty little game of his.

“Wanna know why you stick with me, Theo?” he asks, his voice low and smooth with a subtle lilt to it, the way a parent might talk their child. Or a master might talk to their dog.

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” Theo nearly growls.

Stiles takes every opportunity to tell Theo exactly what he thinks, if only so to torment him to the fullest of his abilities. From the look on his face he thinks he has something really good this time. Something that’ll really get to him. A special secret poison he’s been saving for a rainy day.

“Because you’re the good one now.” It sounds like an insult but Theo feels the truth of it. “You were used to being the bad guy, you were the one everyone hated the most but here you are now. Saving people from the Big Bad Stiles.”

His smirk deepens..

“Scott would be proud.”

Theo lunges at him.

He can’t stop the roar that tears itself from his throat anymore than he can stop the rage from flaring in his veins. His hands fly to Stiles neck, but the human doesn’t flinch or even bother to move. His gaze is steady, as Theo’s trembling hands close around his neck because there’s isn’t any strength behind them. He’s not applying any pressure, and isn’t even sure it would hurt Stiles if he did. So he stands there, shaking and Stiles just lets him, all the while looking into Theo’s eyes and daring him to try.

“That’s it, Theo. Be a hero, slay the monster.” Stiles goads him, and Theo can taste magic in the air. He can’t win here, he doesn’t have the strength, he doesn’t even have the will to pop claws at Stiles. Theo’s nail are blunt and human, not the least bit of a threat but when has he ever been? He crumbles, dropping his hands to his side, Stiles pats him on the head like a dog. “That’s what I thought.”

“Fuck you.”

It’s all the defiance Theo can muster.

    “Maybe later but for now, breakfast! I did not make those pancakes for nothing, dude.” Stiles makes an aborted move towards the kitchen before glancing back at Theo. “Almost forgot...”

White hot pain explodes in Theo’s cheek as Stiles’ hand, heavy as a brick and unrelenting as iron, strikes him to the floor.Theo reigns in his tears, and refuses to let his eyes even water. If Stiles thinks backhanding him is a reprimand, Theo will take it without giving an inch or allowing Stiles the satisfaction of another outburst. “Next time you put your hands me, it’d better because I told you to.”

    Theo’s healing has already numbed the pain, Stiles hit him hard enough to bruise but it’ll fade within minutes. It’s nothing, really. It’s fine. At least Stiles isn’t mad.

“What kind of pancakes did you make?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” Just like that his transgression is forgotten and Stiles is grabbing onto his wrist and tugging him into the kitchen. This is part Theo hates most, when the monster Stiles has become slips away beneath the boy he once was. It should be a reprise but all Theo knows is that at any moment this Stiles could vanish in the blink an eye and suddenly he’s met with the Void, again.

Of all the places in the house, Theo despises being in the kitchen the most because it’s where they’d killed them. The previous owners of the house and their children.

Stiles had dragged the lot of them from their beds in the middle of the night. It hadn’t mattered how much they screamed, he’d layered their home with sigils of silence before they’d set foot in the house.

Theo had been made to help.

 

~&~

 

_“Stiles, we don’t have to do this!” He knows pleading is pointless but what else can he do? He has to at least try. “Let’s just find another place. This one is way too big for us anyway.”_

_Theo feels sick with himself.. Of course, they couldn’t do something as mundane as go house shopping. He’d actually been excited. For the past six months they’d been doing little more than hoping from hotel to hotel as Stiles tore his way through every witch or self proclaimed mystic he could get his hands on. Stealing their magic and grimoires and claiming it all for his own, Theo didn’t dare to ask why he was amassing so much power._

_Stiles told him Brooklyn would be a good place for them to lay down some roots. Apparently, New York had a thriving supernatural underground. He wasn’t done collecting but after half a year on the road, he was ready for a place to call his own. Unfortunately for the family at hand, Stiles had his sights set on their lovely home. “I happen to think it’s the perfect size, I’ve got plans for this place.”_

_Stiles glances at the family of four, huddled against the marble topped island in the middle of the kitchen. He twirls a finger and a circle of flames springs up around them, the mother clings tight to her children. Theo can sense her fear and disbelief, but beneath it is the resolve to protect her children. It’s admirable but futile nonetheless. The father, a balding man in his mid forties, crouches in front of his family and stares Stiles down unwilling to give an inch._

_“Aww, does pops wanna defend his family?” Stiles gloats, bending down to one knee to until he’s at eye level with the man. “How about I give you a fighting chance?”_

_With a snap of his fingers, the flames vanish, no smoke or even a scorch mark to suggest they’d ever been there at all._

_“What are you?” The man asks, defiant despite a small tremor rippling through his body._

_“Just a man in the market for a new place, catch pops.” Stiles tosses the man a gun pulled from his waistband, Theo wasn’t aware that Stiles even owned a gun. The man scrambled to catch it, looking between his wife and kids back to Stiles, utter confusion showing on his face._

_“Here’s what I’m gonna do.” Stiles goes on, his voice ubeat and slightly high, like the host on the world’s most sick and depraved game show. “I’ll turn my back and you take your best shot, kill me and my attractive friend here will leave you and your lovely family alone.”_

_“Is this a trick?”_

_Stiles turns on his heels, winking at Theo, and raises his hands at his side. “Does it look like a trick?”_

_After one last look at his wife and kids, the man levels the gun at Stiles’ back, switching off the safety. It’s as though time slows to a crawl, the first shot seems impossibly loud. Theo barely registers it when Stiles makes a sweeping gesture until suddenly it feels like a giant invisible hand plucks him off the ground. Theo’s yanked violently through the air between Stiles and the incoming bullet._

_It must happen too fast for the man to notice. He unloads the full clip in rapid succession, probably still thinking he’s aiming at Stiles. Theo swears softly and grits his teeth through the pain. Thankfully the man’s aim is terrible and he only lands three shots._

_Although Theo hadn’t been aware of Stiles’ plan to use him as a shield, he isn’t shocked either. Even as he’s dropped to the ground, Theo’s only real surprise is that the bullets aren’t laced with wolfsbane._

_“What have I done?” The gun clatters to the ground, to the humans in the room it probably looked like Theo had leapt to Stiles’ defense. Stiles, who happens to be doubled over laughing without a care as Theo huddles in a pool of his own blood._

_“Oh thanks, that was great!” Stiles says clapping his hands, surveying the scene before him. “Okay, okay enough games.” Then Stiles is moving, the man turns, trying to run but Stiles is too fast and manages to get a secure grip around the man's neck. His struggling is pointless, Stiles had been enhancing his strength with magic for months., it’s gotten to the point where he can overpower even Theo like it’s nothing. His chimera body is nothing more than clay in the hands of an extremely cruel child._

_The children are crying, their mother tries to console them but she’s no better off.  
_

_“Say goodbye to your family.”_

_From his vantage point on the ground, Theo can see the man tear up and as well as the shark like grin Stiles is wearing. “Goodb-” Stiles snaps his neck without warning, shoving him to the ground front his family._

_“Y’know,” Stiles says glancing down at Theo. “I think that might have been in bad taste.”_

_“You think?” Theo gurgles, extending his claws to dig out the bullets in his stomach so he can heal properly._

_“Yeah, my bad.” Stiles nudges the corpse with his foot, completely devoid of any and all sympathy. “Tell ya what, here’s consolation prize. If mommy dearest here kills herself, I’ll leave the kids alone.” Stiles is pleased with himself, he’s bouncing on the soles of his feet._

_“You, you can’t be serious.” She has the children, a boy and girl neither older than twelve, huddled in arms close to her chest. Her face is streaked with tears, she adamantly refuses to look at what was her husband, Theo has little doubt she’ll break if she does._

_“Serious as a heart attack.” Stiles strides over to the kitchen counter and grabs the largest knife out of the knife block. He glances down at the man’s lifeless body “Or given this situation, y’know a broken neck.” Stiles places the knife on the island and steps back. “Your call. They can grow up orphans or I can paint the wall with their blood. I mean that literally, I do a pretty mean Picasso if I do say so myself.”_

_Theo manages to dig out the last bullet, letting it drop into his blood with the other two, and struggles to his feet. The woman’s next frightened glance is directed at him, even as she’s rising off the ground, shushing her children as she does. Theo clutches his gut, willing himself to heal faster, watching helplessly as her fingers close around the knife. She looks to Stiles, angry and fearful “You promise to let them live?”_

_“I won’t touch a single hair on their pretty little heads.” Theo almost believes him, wishing he had the strength to stop this from happening._

_Scott would never let this happen, no matter how strong Stiles has become, Scott would find a way to make this stop. He tries to move forward, but slips on the red streak of of his own blood and topples back down to the floor. His chin smashes onto the tiles and his teeth to cut into his tongue._

_Stiles snorts, but to Theo’s surprise, the woman hardly seems to notice as she takes the knife into both of her hands and places the tip of it over her heart, perfectly between the ribs._

_“She’s a surgeon, Theo. Don’t look so surprised. She cuts people up for a living.”_

_Theo shakes his head in disbelief as he slowly pushes himself up again. “You ran background checks on them?”_

_“Duh, what did you think I was just gonna run in blind? Even I’m not that arrogant.” Stiles picks at his fingernails, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Daddy-o was one of New York's finest attorneys and mommy dearest is an artist with a scalpel. Real power couple those two.”_

_“I don’t even get the respect of you using my name, when you clearly know it?” Theo admires the woman’s courage and resolve. He only wishes there was a chance it could save her._

_Stiles shrugs, uninterested. “I’ve never seen the point in respecting dead people. Now get on with it.”_

_She looks at her children, witnesses their fear as they sob uncontrollably, knowing there’s nothing she can do to make it better. “I love you both, so much. Be strong, okay?” She holds Stiles gaze as she plunges the knife into her chest with a single clean thrust. Theo has little doubt she was an excellent surgeon, from the sound it she doesn't even nick her ribs._

_She sputters once before she finally succumbs, crumbling still and lifeless on the ground._

_“Now that was delightful.” Stiles bends over to poke at the knife sticking out of her chest, jiggling the handle and allowing more blood to seep out. Stiles looks at the children, clutching one another for dear life, as if he’d momentarily forgotten they were even there. “Alright, let's wrap this up.”_

_He turns to Theo, who has healed enough to stand upright._

_“Kill the kids, Theo.”_

_“What?” Theo repeats, disgusted. “You said they could live.”_

_“I said I wouldn’t touch them. But you aren’t me, are you?” Stiles thinks himself so clever, like he found a loophole in a contract deal as if he’d ever abide by the terms._

_Theo looks at the kids, the scent of their fear clogging his senses almost as much as the smell of blood._

_“I won’t do it.”_

_“Well, that’s fair. I’m not going to make you.” Stiles steps closer to the children “I don’t mind breaking my word, but I hope you don’t mind us being here for a while. If I have to do this myself I’m gonna take it nice and slow. Might take all night for me to let them die.”_

_“I’ll do it..” Theo growls, stepping between Stiles and the children.“Just back off!”_

_He’s all too certain he’s behaving exactly like Stiles wants him to, but he can’t accept the consequences of leaving the children to him. They don’t deserve to die, but they deserve to be tortured even less. He won’t let them suffer to save his hands getting dirty.._

_Grinning, Stiles steps back. “Finish up here, I’m gonna take a tour of the place. Be done before I get back or I’ll take over.”_

_Stiles leaves the room and for moment Theo considers taking the risk. His mind runs through a thousand scenarios where he rushes them out of the door and gets them to safety. He’d take them out of town, call Scott on the road. Scott would find him, help them. They’d take the children to Beacon Hills._

_No, Stiles would find them before they got to Scott. He’d get to them before they even left the house, and then, he’d make them suffer. It could take hours or it could take days. Stiles would find things so uniquely cruel that not even Theo could think them up._

_He takes in a heavy breath and runs a hand through his hair, looking down at the horrified children._

_“Close your eyes...”_

_As he steps forward, he wills the part of himself that cares to die. He wills the coldness that had enveloped and protected him through his early life to return, but he does so in vane._

_After a short two months of the house being on the market, Stiles had swept in with an offer to buy it at a third of its original value. Which to the realtor of a house she feared would never sell after what she referred as a robbery gone wrong, must have seemed like a godsend. Stiles made himself up as the perfect gentleman, he’d told her that he was a freelance programmer who got lucky with a few successful apps._

_Stiles introduced himself as Stuart and Theo was apparently his unemployed boyfriend, Mike. Another jab from Stiles, small but nothing the less carrying his usual band ever present of hostility. Theo could only smile and sign the lease in a name he hadn’t chosen but was now inked into permanece._

 

~&~

 

“I have prepared for your dining pleasure, blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes!” Stiles declares cheerfully.

The kitchen island is littered with stray spots of dusty white flower and bits of egg, in the midst of the mess two plates lay stacked pancakes. Theo can still see the children huddled against it’s polished wooden sides. Still hear how they’d cried as he stalked closer. It hurt to remember, the scent of their fear as they scrambled and tried to run.

He’s not sure which is worse. Their screams or the sound of their tiny necks cracking beneath his hands.

He eats breakfast here every day, and watches Stiles act as if nothing of consequence had ever happened here. As if they didn’t eat breakfast of an executioner’s block, or live in a slaughterhouse.  


~&~

 

The last pale rays of sunlight are disappearing across the sky when Theo creeps up to one of the empty guest rooms and quietly draws the window open. Stiles is locked away in his study, absorbed in his collection of texts, which Theo knows it will keep him occupied for at least a few hours.

Careful not to make a sound, he slips out onto the roof, finds the place where the slope of the shingles is smooth and gradual, and settles himself down. He isn’t high up enough to see the ocean from here, but he can catch the hints of salt on the cool dusk breeze, and if he listens closely, he can hear the soft crash of waves against the sand. He leans against the slope and closes his eyes for a moment.

This is where he comes when he needs a small reprieve. It isn’t far away enough to be outside of Stiles’ reach, but he doesn’t have to look at or listen to him.

He draws a long sip of cold mint tea from the tall thin cocktail glass he’d taken with him. Stiles doesn’t care for the taste of mint, but there’s something about it that Theo has grown to like in his time here. It’s smooth scent is soothing, it’s flavor just bold enough to capture attention of the senses, but not enough to overpower them.

Here in Brooklyn, much like his time with the Dread Doctors before, Theo had found that he had to take enjoyment in small things. Things that were trivial and mattered to no one but him. That way there was little motivation for anyone to take it away.

He sighs and tilts his head back on the shingles, feels the last rays of the sun withdraw from his skin. He lets the flavors of the tea swirl around his tongue and tries to focus on the distant sounds, but tonight they do nothing to settle him.

_Scott would be proud._

He flinches as the words continue to rattle around his mind. Insidious and vindictive, searching for new and undiscovered places to strike and cause him pain.

Why did it hurt so much?

Of all the things Stiles has said to him, has forced him to do, why did that simple sentence make his chest ache and his gut twist.

He didn’t think he thought about Scott that much, or that what Scott thought mattered to him. But when Stiles had said it, it was like he’d reached right into Theo’s ribcage, found the one place inside him that was still his and no one else’s, still clean and untainted, a part of him he hadn’t even realized existed, and then twisted his cruel dirty fingernails into it.

The glass cracks in Theo’s hand and sharp pieces cut into his palm. He gasps as blood spurts from his hand, tea and ice cubes slosh onto his arm. The shock of it must have startled him. That’s the only way Theo can explain flood of silent tears that are suddenly rolling down his face.

As he wipes his eyes and plucks thick bloody pieces of glass from his palm, he tries to convince himself that that there was no truth in Stiles words. It would just be stupid, and quite frankly, pathetic, if it was. He’d only thought about Scott, what Scott would do, or what Scott would want a handful of times today. And a few times yesterday. And the day before that.

 _Fuck you, Stiles._ He thinks bitterly as he swipes the rest of the glass into the rain gutter with his shoe. _Fuck you._

Scott wouldn’t be proud and they both knew it. How could he be? Yes, Theo had managed to save Eric today. He mitigates the harm Stiles causes however he can. He’d like to think that providing Stiles with an outlet (he can no longer fool himself into believing that he provides Stiles companionship) helps slow his ever-persistent descent into darkness. But the things Theo has done since they left Beacon Hills, regardless of why he’s done them, are despicable. _He_ is despicable. Just like he’s always been.

He draws his knees up to his chest, and folds his arms over them. Watches the stars begin to twinkle off in the distance. They’re difficult to make out in the metropolitan haze, but the moon still shows it’s nearly-full shape vividly.

There had been a brief time where he thought that he could be different. A time where not just he, but also Scott, had believed that he was capable of being so much more than the twisted pawn and plaything for the wicked that the world seemed determined to make him into.

But that time, even if it was only a few years back, feels as distant from him as the stars in the murky haze of the twilight sky.

“Theo, where are you?” Theo’s stomach turns as he hears Stiles’ impatient voice from within the house. “Come to bed. Now.”

Theo pushes his thoughts to the very edges of his mind as he slips back inside. Stiles is of course waiting for him in the bedroom. He says something antagonistic but entirely unremarkable, Theo barely has the energy to listen and process all of the jabs he manages to concoct in a day.

He hates himself as he lets Stiles hands slide over his skin, but he doesn't pull away. Every evening he keeps Stiles entertained is an evening the poor girl chained to the floor in the basement is left alone. A night that some unsuspecting soul isn’t plucked from the streets, the subway, the supermarket, or wherever the hell else Stiles finds his victims.

 _Yes._ Theo thinks savagely as Stiles applies pressure to the top of his head and he sinks down to his knees. _Scott would be so proud…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, chapter three is in the works.
> 
> Constructive comments are always appreciated. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're sorry this one took so long, but we hope you enjoy! As always, please be mindful of the warnings in the tags.

Somehow, watching Theo sleep never gets old.

Stiles slowly runs his hand over Theo’s bare chest. Lets his fingers trace the path of the skin over his slowly thudding heart and up his throat till they find their way around his jugular. The things he could do to the chimera as he sleeps are tempting, but he has more important plans for today.

Brushing aside a lock of Theo’s hair and looking down at his sleeping face, Stiles can’t help but smile.

“I can’t believe someone like Scott actually wanted you.”

Stiles slips out of bed quietly, careful not to wake his sleeping pet as he tiptoes out of their bedroom. He pauses to admire the door to his study across the hall, and places his hand on the polished wood. Feeling the pulse of magic within like the steady beat of a heart.

He’d fought hard for his collection. He’d stolen and killed and made deals with all manner of creatures to reach this point in his life. Theo doesn't know it, but today is a day that Stiles has been working towards for a long time. Today is the day he begins the final step to unlocking his _true_ potential.

With a gentle tap of his fingertips against the door he steps away, moving through the hall and descending down the stairs to the basement.

He’d been patient, and kept his distance from pack as he prepared over the past few years. It had been difficult but necessary to allow them to forget about him and to move on. He hadn’t been aware that Scott would be able to tie his shoelaces without him, but according to rumors, his pack was thriving.  

But worse than the fact that they’d managed to find some success without him was that they seemed to have found _happiness_ without him as well.

Chris Argent and Melissa McCall were engaged to be married by the end of the month, and it was that news that made Stiles realize he couldn’t hold back on his plans any longer.

He hadn’t put all of that work into orchestrating himself being kicked out of the pack or gone through the trouble of manipulating Theo to come with him for that. Scott was supposed to be distraught over Stiles for the rest of his miserable life. Not guzzling vintage wine from heirloom Argent crystalware and celebrating his new family.

Stiles blood is simmering as he descends the stairs down into the basement, but he reminds himself that it doesn’t matter. The fact that happiness is so close for Scott will make this better in the end.

Stiles pulls the door open slowly. As far as super villain lairs go Stiles finds it fairly lacking. The dim lighting of the basement could be better, and he should really do something about those shitty cracked walls. Yes, there’s a happy splattering of blood along them to add character, but the single bulb hanging overhead makes the whole place look so cliche’ Stiles almost feels bad using it for torture.  

“So how’s the Dread Doctors second most useless experiment feeling this morning?” Stiles asks his guest cheerfully.

Hayden doesn’t lift her head from her spot on the floor. Stiles considers being offended at the lack of respect for her gracious host, but instead, he edges closer, and surveys the beauty of his own work.

It had been a tedious but rewarding process. Splitting open the meat of her elbows and wrists, melding the chain to her bones and watching it heal over. That alone must have exhausted her, added to the fact that he may have forgotten to feed her for the last two days meant she was almost _ready_.

Grinning, Stiles turns to the wooden table in the corner of the room. There’s so many choices of instruments, he almost can’t choose but in the end he decides on the thumbscrew.

It’s a bit old fashioned but Stiles has a thing for the classics.

Kneeling down next her, Stiles lifts her limp hand and secures the thumbscrew over Haydon’s index finger and twists the screw slowly. Pausing when it’s poised just beneath her nail, taking in the look of pained exhaustion on her sleeping face.

“Rise and shine!”

The deep red that blossoms under her nail is enough to make his mouth water but it’s nowhere near as satisfying as the scream that tears itself from her throat.

“Please!” She begs, eyes burning gold as he twists, forcing the screw deeper, holding her hand as it spasms in pain. He feels her trying to pull away, watches the tremor of agony as the chains rattle pulling and grinding into the meat of her flesh. “Stiles-ugh, Stiles please!”

“What happened to you?” She asks in a broken whisper, tears streaming down her face. “What did Theo do to you to make you like this?”

That makes him pause. The idea that Theo could in any way be responsible for his actions is beyond laughable.

“Oh Hayden, Theo doesn’t even know you’re here.” He drives the screw deeper.

She groans through gritted teeth, the shift sweeping over her involuntarily. Stiles can feel her body trying heal and push the screw out, he has to keep applying pressure just to hold it steady.

“Theo thinks I’m entertaining myself with some girl from a local pack down in east Brooklyn, but I dumped her body off in Canarsie Park last week.” Stiles grabs her by the chin, hard enough to bruise a normal person.

“You killed someone? Where’s my sister?” Hayden pulls fiercely at her chains, actually managing to take swing at Stiles before crumbling to the ground. “What did Theo do to my sister?”

Stiles growls, anger flooding his vein, standing abruptly and kicking Hayden across the face. Before he can stop himself there’s a spell on his lips, a ball of fire sparks to life in his hand. Reaching down, Stiles yanks up her up by the hair, bringing the crackling sphere over her left eye and holding it there as she screams begging him to stop.

Stiles hears something upstairs clatter, he’d neglected to close the basement door, and of course Theo’s awake with all the noise Hayden is making. He watches the tears fall from her one good eye, the other all but melting out of her right socket against the blackened skin of her face. Stiles’ anger fades at the smell of cooking meat, reminding him so much of the day they left Beacon Hills.

~&~

Stiles was on cloud nine.

Weeks of planning. A literal of trail bodies, and a few burnt wendigo corpses was all it took to finally break Scott McCall. Stiles wishes he could have been there to see the look of utter despair on Scott’s face after he’d left them in the woods. Knowing Scott it wasn’t that hard to guess. He’d more than likely spend the rest of the night crying to Melissa.

How long, Stiles wonders as he glances at Theo’s huddled form in the passenger's seat, until Scott notices the absence of his pet chimera?

Stiles could easily, and did in fact, blame Theo for a great many things but there were few upsides to Theo’s presence. Keeping one eye on the road ahead, Stiles lets his right hand wander over onto Theo’s leg.

Theo’s only notable response is to roll his eyes and let his head fall against the window with an audible thunk. He hasn’t said a word since they made their way out of Beacon Hills. Such a broken thing.

He grins, unable to help himself from seeing just how far he can push Theo’s resigned air of compliance. Theo continues to stare blankly into the distance, Stiles is almost disappointed at the lack of resistance as his hand comes to rest on Theo’s inner thigh.

He can only imagine what’s going on in Theo’s head, not that he cares when he can think of more interesting things to do with that body. The jeep’s headlights reflect off a sign that catches Stiles’ eye, something about a motel two miles down the road.

_Perfect_.

They aren’t too far outside of Beacon Hills but it isn’t like anyone was going to come looking for them right away. “We’re going to stop for the night.”

He doesn’t voice it as a question. Why bother? It’s not like Theo has a better alternative.

“Yeah, whatever.” Theo says quietly.

The motel, as it turns out, is even trashier than the one Coach had taken them to on that damn field trip. Stiles leaves Theo to wait in the Jeep as he requests a room with a single king-sized bed. He’s whistling cheerfully and spinning the key around his finger when he returns.

Theo huffs, unimpressed. “So, got us a key?”

“Duh, now grab my bag and follow me.” Theo looks like he wants to argue, there’s a defiant gleam in his eyes. “Come on now, Scott would want you to help me.”

It’s a low blow, and probably too soon given its only been three hours since they left Beacon Hills but it works all the same. Theo grits his teeth angrily, retrieving Stiles’ bag from the back seat and  and hoping out of the Jeep without a word. Stiles closes the door behind the pouting chimera, heading towards the line of rooms along the building leading around a sharp corner.

Room 206 and as it happens, is surprisingly clean.

“Why is there only one bed?”

Stiles chuckles, leaning back against the door and snapping the lock in place. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Theo. You know why.”

Theo might be an idiot but Stiles knows without question that he isn’t blind. He’s too much of a rat not to notice something he could use to his advantage, and he wouldn’t have missed the way Stiles’s eyes have always rolled up and down his body. Whether it was when he was with Malia or Lydia, it hadn’t mattered. Theo had always acted as if he didn’t notice, but they both knew that he did.

Theo tosses Stiles’ bag on the ground at his feet, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

It’s cute of Theo to think he doesn’t want this, but Stiles is more than up for the challenge of showing him otherwise.

“Funny, you think you actually have a choice in the matter.” Stiles raises his hands, letting his magic bubble to the surface and pulse throughout the room.

“What are you doing?” Theo asks with just a tiny hint of fear bleeding into his voice.

Stiles longs to hear more of that.

“Calm your tits, Theo. Just putting up some wards to make sure no one bothers us.”

“There is no _us_ , Stiles!” Theo all but yells back at him.

“You won’t be saying that for much longer.” Stiles winks, giving his fingers a twirl to secure the perimeter of the building, clasping his hands together to seal the wards.

Then, just for fun he whispers a little spell, a small charm, just for Theo.

“Now,” Stiles begins stretching his arms above his head “I think we should celebrate leaving the pack.”

“Celebrate?” Theo repeats incredulously. “Why would I want to celebrate? You were kicked out and you fucking forced me to come with you.”

_Kicked out?_ Stiles’ mind reeled in anger. Theo made it sound so simple, like Stiles hadn’t been trying to get kicked out for months with Scott making it impossibly hard.

How many bodies had he left scattered around Beacon Hills until Scott finally had to face the truth?  

“Forced you?” Stiles steps further into the room, noting how Theo refuses to back away down from him. “At what point did I use force? Was it when you got in my Jeep? When I kissed you, and you let me?” He reaches out, tilting Theo’s head to the side and leaning in, letting his lips brush Theo’s ear. “Do you want me to force you? Just so you can have it as an excuse?”

“Why would I need an excuse?” Theo asks.

Stiles lets his other hand settle on Theo’s hip, enjoying the slight difference in their height more than ever.

“For the same reason you haven’t tried to run.”  Stiles pulls Theo flush against him, letting the chimera feel the hard length of his cock growing in his jeans. “You think Scott is going to come for you.”

Theo freezes, completely confirming Stiles’ suspicions regarding his complacency.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There’s a hand braced on Stiles’ chest now, like Theo can’t quite decide whether or not to push him away.   

“Oh Theo, and here I thought you were a good liar...” Stiles grins, wrapping his hands tight around Theo’s throat. “Do you really think you’re even worth saving to him?”

Theo doesn’t fight him, even as Stiles presses harder onto his windpipe.

“I mean who would even care if I killed you? Name one person.”

Theo grabs at his wrists but Stiles is pleased to find he still doesn’t pull away.

“Sco-” Theo began, but Stiles cut him off.

“Scott?” Stiles laughs in his face, shoving Theo until the back of his legs hit the bed leaving him with no other choice but to sit down. “I know what you’re thinking.” Stiles towers over him, kicking Theo’s legs apart and stepping between them. “Scott cares about everyone, of anyone he’d miss you, right?” Stiles twists his fingers in Theo’s hair, yanking hard enough that it must surely be painful. “Or do you think he’d come because of the little _crush_ you have on him?”

This time the reaction is immediate.

Theo roars, loud and angry, grabbing Stiles by the collar of his shirt and violently yanking him onto the bed beside him. Stiles feels the wind knocked out of him, but knows he’s in no real danger. Theo straddles him, one hand around Stiles’ throat and the other raised, claws out and poised to strike.

“Fuck you!” Theo shouts, his hands shaking. “This is all your fault! I was making progress, Scott was starting to trust me...”

“Oh my God,” Stiles can’t believe his eyes. “Are you fucking crying right now? Seriously?”

“What?” Watching Theo realize his folly brings Stiles a sick rush of satisfaction. He looks down at Stiles with utter disdain.“I fucking hate you.”

“No you don’t…” Stiles says with a malicious grin as he sits up and grips Theo’s forearms in his hands. “What you hate is the _truth_.”

Gently, Stiles guides Theo’s hands away from his face. His body is tense and on the verge of trembling. It’s beautiful to behold, Theo desperately trying to deny all of those deeply guarded emotions. His secret hopes and unrecognized needs. And failing to reconcile it with the fact that they’re being shattered before him.

Who knew that such a small emotional splitting charm could upturn all of Theo Raeken’s psychology in an instant?

Oh, that’s right, _Stiles_ did.

A grin spreads across his lips and his dick swells underneath Theo’s hips as he realizes how close he has him to breaking. All he needs now is one more push in the right direction and he’ll be putty in Stiles’ hands.

“He doesn’t want you, Theo.” A blatant lie, but Theo would never know. A simple spell and no supernatural could detect even the slightest change in his heartbeat. “Did you honestly think that Scott could _ever_ want to be with someone like you?”

“I…” Theo just barely chokes out.

Stiles’ hands are moving up his arms, his fingers exploring the smooth grooves of his biceps and shoulders. Pressing his fingers to all of the alluring crevasses that he’d seen Scott’s eyes tenderly sliding over whenever he thought no one was looking.

God Theo is such a miserable idiot.

“Of course you didn’t.” Stiles almost coos at Theo as his hands start to groupe underneath his shirt, feeling their way invasively up his core. “You’re not stupid.”

Another bold faced lie. Theo’s about as daft as they come. But hey, everyone needs to feel _special_ sometimes.

“That’s why you came with me.” He goes on, his fingertip starts to brush against Theo’s stiffening nipple. “Because you _know_ that it’s true. You just don’t _want_ it to be.”

He grabs Theo by the hips and grinds him down against his growing bulge. A disgruntled sound leaves Theo’s lips, so Stiles does it again, this time lifting his own hips up to meet him.

“But you know where you really belong.” He breathes against Theo’s neck as he continues to draw Theo’s hips back and forth. “ _Don’t_ you?”

Struggling not to moan, Theo’s hands fall on Stiles’ shoulders, like he’s going to push himself away. Stiles quickly grabs him by the throat again.

“Time to stop this charade, Theo.” He says, rolling on top of him and pushing his knees apart. “The redemption look isn’t attractive on you.”

Watching Theo’s resolve crumble is possibly the most erotic thing Stiles has ever seen. He can practically see the gears turning slowly in the struggling creatures head, watch everything fall painfully into place through the grim flickers in his face.

“Fuck...fuck you.” Theo says, but his voice is broken. Hopeless, and self-hating. He can feel Theo’s body trying to curl in on itself beneath him, but Stiles doesn’t let him.

He has Theo open, the spell shredding through his emotional shields and pushing him  under the thumb of all his own self-doubt. The pain must be unbearable. Stiles understands what it’s like to feel worthless and inadequate.

It’s what lead him to open the door back up to the void in the first place.

Away at the FBI, unable to pass his exams from a lack of focus, everyday waiting to hear if one of his friends had been killed. Jumping every time the phone rang. Each time answering with dread - _This will be the one. This will be the time they call to tell me one of us is gone._

He was helpless to stop it. Feeble. Mortal. Weak. He had to do something. He had to find something that would let him protect his friends. Or so he’d thought back then. Now he knows that really, he’d wanted the power for himself. To make _himself_ not be helpless.

The descent into darkness, once he’d opened the door, had been swift.

He’d struggled against it at first. Tried to keep it in check. But each door he went through made the next more tempting. He had to see what lay behind each one. He had to know the depths to his newfound powers and where it could take him.

Still, as the weeks drew on and he told no one of his exploration, he began to resent that his friends were so oblivious to his struggle.

He went home for a holiday break and that’s when he saw _him_. The very person that had split him and Scott apart. That had isolated him for the first time from someone he thought he could never be separated from. Theo Raeken.

Not officially in the pack, but also not that far off from it. Following Scott around like a loyal dog. And Scott was letting him.

Scott was letting Theo slowly earn back his trust. Letting him get close once again. While Stiles was struggling day and night not to let the void consume him. He wanted to kill Theo. Wanted to squeeze his neck till he turned blue, then rip his throat out and watch the life leave his eyes.

Of course that would be violating Rule Numero Uno in Pack Saint McCall. Killing was a big No-No. But the thought wouldn’t leave him. It kept him up at night, the idea of what it would be like to kill that smug son of a bitch.

Until one day it hit him. Why did he give a fuck what Scott thought anymore? Why did he have to play by a set of rules that he had never made? To make some person happy that couldn't even see what was happening?

Eager to see if he could go through with it, he went to a club. Found a douchebag that looked as much like Theo as it was possible to find. That boy had been Stiles’s true first. The beginning to what would inevitably set him free.

It was then that Stiles began to make his plan to force Scott to see what his ignorance had bred. Force him to expel him from the pack. He’d thought about killing Theo, letting that be the final blow, but soon he saw a much better course of action.

Why kill him when it would hurt Scott so much more to see Theo twisted back into what he had been before?

“It must have been so hard for you, Theo.” Stiles coos, pressing their still clothed bodies together, and bringing his lips to Theo’s ear. “Trying so desperately to be something you’re not...”

Theo’s body went rigid again, he tried to move once more but Stiles grabbed both his wrists and pinned them over his head.

“You don’t have to fight it anymore.” He goes on, letting his lips graze the skin of Theo’s neck. “I see you for what you are. I’ve _always_ seen you for what you are. Scott, his pack, they don’t want _that_ you. And that’s the only real you isn’t it?”

Stiles takes the opportunity to unclip Theo’s belt and pull it through it’s loops.

Theo lets him.

He keeps his eyes locked on Theo’s, not wanting to miss a moment of his inevitable submission as he draws out his length and wraps his fingers around it. He grins as he finds Theo’s already hard from the physical attention being paid to him. He’s so touch starved and desperate for attention - his time striving for Scott’s acceptance and affection has made him hungry.

Scott might as well have served him up on a platter to him.

_Idiot._

Stiles tightens his grip, and rubs the thick shaft a bit rougher than he might if it were someone else. The struggle on Theo’s face as a reluctant sound of pleasure escapes his lips is delicious.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Stiles purrs. “What else do you like, Theo?”

Summoning a supernatural level of strength, Stiles draws his hand back and strikes Theo across the face so hard his head turns sideways. Theo groans and his dick throbs in Stiles’ palm.

Pain. Of course Theo liked that. Kinky son of a bitch.

Stiles grins as he grips Theo’s throat and quickly undoes his own belt.

Theo is fucking perfect. His salacious thick body doesn’t just tolerate being punished, it fucking _enjoys_ it. He’d been groomed for this from a very young age, taught to like anything that was done to him, to consent to it. His body and his soul are tainted beyond redemption, no matter how bad he thinks he wants it.

The handles to Theo’s psychological defenses are visible and easily manipulated by someone with a stronger will. He thought Scott would be able to take hold of him and steer him right, but Theo’d missed the fact that Scott doesn’t _steer_ anyone. He’s too Team Free Will bullshit for that. He wants to empower people to steer themselves, and Theo would never to be able to do that.

Theo’s nothing more than a toy. A toy that knows how to fight back only enough to make his inevitable submission more satisfying.

“Touch it.” Stiles orders, squeezing Theo’s throat and pushing his own pulsing dick into Theo’s palm. “Make me want you.”

Theo obeys. His smooth fingers wrap around Stiles’ length and slowly move up and down. Stiles groans and rocks his hips into Theo’s hand.

He’d planned to draw this out more. All the times he’d run through this encounter in his head he’d played with Theo longer. Made him renounce Scott and then look him in the eyes as he took his cock into his mouth. But with Theo here in the flesh, the urgency of his own lust starts to overtake him, and he realizes he doesn’t have the patience for that tonight.

“Turn around.” He commands, and feels a lustful satisfaction ripple through him as Theo rolls over onto his stomach.

He draws Theo’s hips up to his own and yanks his jeans and the elastic band of his briefs down.

“Christ, Theo…” He growls, pumping his cock and reaching into his pocket for a small bottle of lube. “Your ass is so fuckable…”

Theo makes a scoffing sound into the pillow, which only makes Stiles smirk as he pushes his fingers into his tight entrance. A moment later Theo’s biting down onto the cheap pillow, trying not to squirm or make a sound as Stiles fingers him open.

“ _Moan._ ” Stiles orders him as he jams his fingers deep inside him. “I want to hear how much you _love_ this.”

Theo growls, practically suffocating himself into the pillow to muffle the sound.

“I’ll accept that.” Stiles laughs, curling his fingers slightly and jamming them in and out in rough imitation of what is soon to follow.

Theo’s back arches, his body writhes, and a long ragged moan is uttered into the linens as Stiles’ fingertips drag across his prostate.

Small beads of sweat start to roll down Stiles neck as he watches him. He wants to keep playing with him but his dick is angry and swollen. Eager to start teaching Theo who his new master is.

He pulls his fingers out and slaps Theo’s ass so hard it bounces flares a bright pink print of his palm. Theo finally breaks his mouth away from the pillow.

Fuck, Stiles has wanted this for so long.

“I am gonna fuck you up _so hard_...” He growls, digging his nails into his hips to hold him in place as he pushes his cock into him. “Your masochistic ass is going to be begging me to do it to you every. Fucking. Night.”

Theo groans as Stiles pushes in. Pants as his head drags in and out of him. Soon he’s arching his back and rocking his hips back. Stiles swears from the tight squeeze and the begrudgingly given friction.

Form there his mind blanks out. For several solid minutes there are no games or sarcastic comments, just hot panting breath and brutal thrusting. He claws at Theo’s pliant body, rails into him until he starts to see white.

When he’s finally ready to come, he r clamps his hand down across Theo’s mouth and holds his nose shut. Using the throws of Theo’s struggling, oxygen-deprived body to send himself crashing over the edge into earth-shattering oblivion.

When he releases him, Theo’s choking, gasping, and spent. He smells like sex and regret and a thousand other delicious things.

Stiles flops down onto his back, spreading his limbs across the bed and over Theo. Letting his body soak in pleasant exhaustion and tingling satisfaction.

The air begins to turn cold around him, his heart rate slowly returns to its natural rhythm. The spell he’d woven through the room starts to fade away, and as it does, he can feel Theo’s confusion start to set in.

Stiles smiles.

“What…” Theo’s voice is shaking as he stares at the wall, his back still Stiles. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh come on, Theo,” Stiles teases him, even though he knows exactly what Theo is asking. “Don’t go playing blushing innocent virgin with me right now…”

“Not that!” Theo spits, suddenly turning to face him. “What did you do? I know you did something! You...you...”

“I didn’t force anything.” Stiles turns to meet Theo’s livid gaze. “I could have if I wanted to, we both know that.”

“I wasn’t...I wasn’t in my right mind…”

“No, you were in your _most honest_ state of mind.” Stiles laughs, propping himself up on his elbow to gaze into Theo’s anguished eyes. “The charm I used on you doesn’t make you feel or want anything, it only lowers inhibitions and breaks down emotional guards. Everything you just did, _you_ chose to do.”

He watches the horror dawn on Theo’s features and his smile deepens.

Theo is much easier after that. He doesn’t put up a fuss when Stiles rushes him out of the motel room the following morning and doesn’t ask questions. That’s a bit of a relief because despite what he’d told Theo, Stiles is almost certain that Scott _will_ be coming after them the moment he realizes his pet redemption project is missing. If they slept in another hour or so the alpha would be knocking on their door trying to convince Theo to come back with him and Stiles couldn’t have _that_.

It gave him a thrill of pleasure to imagine the shocked look on Scott’s face when he instead burst into an empty hotel room and the thick scent of their sex hit him.

He wouldn’t see that coming. Not for a mile.

_You snooze, you lose, Scotty._

Stiles makes sure he leaves the door unlocked so Scott can easily get in. His last parting gift to his former best friend. A petty cherry on top of the ice cream Sunday of _fuck you_ that Stiles is serving him.

He whistles cheerily to himself as he climbs into the Jeep beside his quiet and sulky companion.

Theo keeps fingering his phone as they drive into the early morning sun and Stiles can feel his misery deepening as each hour passes and there isn’t so much as a buzz with a “Where are you?” text from Liam or an “Are you alright?” from Scott.

But of course that’s Stiles’ doing as well. It’s crazy how people somehow think technology is above the subtle tricks of magic. Stiles could utter a few words and watch someone’s still-beating heart rip itself out of their chest, blocking a phone from receiving sappy text messages is _nothing_ for him _._

By the time the sun sets on the vast highway, the last of Theo’s hope is dead. He solemnly lets himself be pulled into bed again. Gives himself over to his carnal needs and Stiles’ base desires. A stray child of darkness returning to his parent’s greedy arms after having ventured too far into the world of light.

No more redemption. No more Scott. Theo belongs to _Stiles_ now.

Stiles is alight with excitement. As he plays with Theo in the dark, he feels Scott’s control over them and their destiny slowly to slip away. This is the beginning of something new and terrible and entirely undiscovered. There is nothing to hold them back now.

But as days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months, Theo becomes increasingly disappointing to him. He’s only half-interested when they’re in New Orleans, and pitches a fit when Stiles turns a voodoo priestess into a mindless zombie and unleashes her on her husband. He isn’t amused when Stiles locks a mage in an iron maiden in Edinburgh. He drags his feet through the crypts of Rome, and is just plain sour in the tombs of Egypt.

At first Stiles tries to ignore it. He tells himself Theo just needs some warming up, needs some time to fully spread his wings and indulge himself in the carnage and secret power that they’re uncovering. But it’s increasingly difficult as it becomes more and more apparent that Theo doesn’t care about the power of the glyphs they discover. Doesn’t appreciate the humor in Stiles mummifying a pair of magi that are still very much alive.

He isn't the power-hungry Theo Raeken that Stiles could remember from senior year. The one that lived to see others fall from grace. That revealed in the loss of innocence all around him.

Theo’s lack of enthusiasm is frustrating enough on its own, but as time creeps on Stiles begins to notice an even worse problem.

The further he descends down the well of darkness, the slower he seems to move. Like there’s something tying him down still. Holding him back.

It isn’t till their trip deep into the Balkan mountains, that Stiles begins to realize how the two problems are connected.

They’re within the walls of a Byzantine monastery, here to claim it’s rumored secrets for themselves. Blood splashes the columns of the courtyard and soaking their clothes.

But Theo isn’t enjoying it.

Stiles raises a hand to catch the bo staff of a monk that surely thought Stiles too distracted to notice. Still watching Theo, Stiles rips the offending staff from the monk’s grasp and brings it down like a hammer on the man’s head.

Stiles is so caught up in watching Theo, he can’t even enjoy the sight of the man’s head splitting open straight down the middle. Sure, Theo is technically doing as he’s told. Every monk that comes near him is struck down with clinical precision. But that’s exactly the _problem._

Stiles twirls a finger, summoning a gale force wind to envelope his body, an absolute defense protecting him on all sides. He walks forward, hands in his pocket, allowing the wind to tear through anyone that stand in his path.

Theo moves are mechanical; every attack is a killshot.

A throat sliced open, a snapped neck, or a quick jab through the heart.

Mercy kills.

Stiles is so disgusted that his spell kicks into overdrive. Suddenly he’s standing in the eye of a small tornado. Theo is forced to dig his claws into the ground to avoid being dragged into the vortex. The few remaining monks are sucked in along with their blunt weapons. Stiles looks around, trying to relish in their terror. It should be fun but instead it leaves him feeling hollow.

It’s not what he planned. This was supposed to take hours, a slaughter of epic proportions that he could look back upon fondly and _smile._ He growls, canceling his spell. He isn’t even able to enjoy the morbid clopping sound of bloody limbs raining down around him or the fading cacophony of screams.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Stiles ask through gritted teeth.

“I did what you wanted.” Theo looks mournful, he actually sounds like he’s in real pain.

“How are you not enjoying this?” Stiles makes a sweeping gesture the monastery courtyard littered with bodies, broken weapons and blood. “Nothing they believed in could save them. Whatever they worship _let_ them die. This should be fun for you.”

Theo doesn’t reply. Just sits there with a sour look on his otherwise attractive and blood-splattered face.

A burst of white hot fury spills into Stiles’ veins. His nostrils flare, his hands begin to tremble with rage as he steps towards his sorry excuse for a murder husband.

Theo’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s unleashed. He moves to get up, but he isn’t fast enough. Stiles is on him, hand at his throat, yanking him up so their faces are inches apart. Theo’s face is ashen and terrified.

“I had _such_ a lovely evening planned.” Stiles fumed at him. “There’s an alter at the top of this place that overlooks the site of ancient pagan sacrifices. There’s a holy basin up there that could easily be made into a hot tub. I was going to leave a few of these dumb fucks alive to wait on us up there, but I can see now that kind of experience would just be _lost_ on you.”

Theo tried to wriggle out of Stiles grip, but that only made his fingers tighten their hold on him.

“You don’t deserve blood-drenched sex or to be waited on!” Stiles goes on, grabbing Theo by the hair and yanking him through a large set of ornate double-doors.

Theo claws at Stiles wrists as he’s pulled down a large stone spiral staircase, but Stiles skin glows with a magical sheen and the chimera’s claws splinter against it like dried wood on hard steel. He hurls Theo forward and listens to the sound of his bones cracking against the rocky jagged steps as as he tumbles down.

With two words of Ancient Sumerian, Stiles sealed off Theo’s ability to heal and follows him down the staircase.

Another whispered word in Greek lights all the candles in the alcoves lining the walls, and fills the large subterranean chamber with dim flickering light. He looks down at Theo, a broken heap on the floor, coughing up small bursts of blood.

“Well I’m going to be enjoying myself here with or without your participation.” Stiles leers, hauling Theo up to face him.

If Theo wouldn’t be his counterpart, then he would be his whore instead.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

Much to his surprise Theo smiles weakly as he flinches in pain. His fingers are trembling with effort as he brings them up to stroke Stiles chest, seductively.

“I am.” Theo breathes, making eyes up at him as blood drips down from his hair into his fluttering lashes. “You know I like it when you’re rough...”

Stiles growls. He knows Theo is manipulating him. His sense of survival is trumping his desire to display ambivalence. He’ll play out this scene the way Stiles wants it, if only to see the light of tomorrow.

But the raspy smug sound of his voice draws Stiles in regardless of its transparent intentions. He lays Theo out on the ground and lets the chimera please him. He’s drunk on the power of it, and too eager to have his lust sated to refuse Theo’s shallow antics.

When they finish Stiles lifts the spell and lets Theo heal. Theo falls asleep almost immediately, but Stiles is left staring at the strange runes that spiraled up the walls of the chamber.

He craves to give himself over to exhaustion and sleep, but he can’t.

Something isn’t right.

Yes, Theo is an annoying disappointment, but it’s more than that. He’d wanted to kill Theo but something had stayed his hand. And as he lays, staring up at the ancient carvings, several similar instances of guilt and mercy float to surface of his thoughts.

There were those orphans in Romania that he’d spared. The crying girl hiding inside that closet back in Prague. That group of tourists that he’d let leave the caverns outside Krakow before he’d started his grisly work there.

Why does he feel like he keeps hitting a wall every time he tries to reach deeper into the void?

He’s still trying to rationalize it when Theo rolls, muttering slightly in his sleep, nuzzles his face into Stiles’ neck. It’s indecipherable nothings, hardly of any interest.

In a tired moment of weakness, Stiles lets his fingers slid gently down the back of Theo’s scalp.

_“Scott…”_ Theo whispers softly, his breath tickling Stiles’ collarbone.

Stiles freezes.

Suddenly, it all suddenly makes sense.

That‘s it. The piece he’d been missing. The thing that was holding him back. Stopping him at every turn. Making him doubt. Making him question. Making the fragments of the _old_ Stiles spring up inside him.

He’d been so close to strangling what was left of that old weakling out. So close to plunging deeper into the abyss. But every time he turned around there was Theo. Reeling him in. Slowing his descent.

All of it because it was what _Scott_ would have wanted him to do.

Stiles had thought they were both free from the influence of his old best friend but they weren’t. Scott’s will had been following them the entire time.

Stiles fingers shake with rage. He twists them into Theo’s hair, yanking him from his dreams and forcing his head up to face him.

“ _Scott, huh_?” He hisses.

Theo face rapidly shifts from confusion to horror, he tries to pull away, but Stiles has him by the throat.

“No, go on, Theo!” Stiles rolls on top of him. “Say his name again!”

“What-” Theo wheezes, as he tries to ply his fingers off him. “What are you _talking_ ab-”

“ _Say his name, Theo_ .” Stiles challenges. “Do it. _Say it to my face_ . You lying, pathetic, spineless _..._ ”

He drags Theo to the center of the room.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” He fumes, releasing him and pointing a finger in his face. “Did you think you could play me for a fool?”

“I-” Theo coughed, now equal parts angry and terrified. “I have _no_ idea what you’re _talking_ about!”

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Stiles voice squeals in high-pitched rage. “You don’t know that you’ve spent the past year following me around, acting like you’re interested in what we’re doing, all the while sobbing into your pillow over someone that didn’t give enough of a crap about you to even send you a text when you left town?”

Stiles expects to see the fear in Theo’s eyes deepen upon the reveal that he knows, but instead he watches as a dull flickering sadness moves through Theo’s features.

“You’ve been sabotaging me!” Stiles howls. “ This entire time! And all for the approval of some idiot that will never see your efforts. Someone that _hates_ you! That’s _disgusted_ by you!”

The pain growing in Theo’s glassy irises is all the confirmation that Stiles needs to know that it’s true.

“ _Alliges duplicia_!” Stiles hisses, and Theo’s lifts into the air.

“I was wrong about you, Theo.” He says, as Theo struggles against invisible binds. “You aren’t interesting or special in any way. You’re just like the rest of them. A little rat running around a maze, trying to please the man that’s watching them. You’re boring, and common, and ordinary in every way. The only thing that makes you different is you’re too broken and useless to be able to please anyone.”

He snaps his fingers and watches as Theo’s body twist and contort. Ribs pierce through his chest, femurs rip from thighs, distorted screams echoes through the chamber, and then there’s deafening silence.

Stiles turns away as the remains of sliced flesh and bones fall to the floor. Chest heaving, he doubles over, his hands on his knees.

“ _Good. Riddance_.” He pants, his hands still shaking with rage. “Good riddance…”

He says it again, and again, and again. Each time he tries to will himself to believe it. He can’t understand why he doesn’t.

He turns to look at the mangled corpse on the stone floor.

_Fuck._

He’s all alone now. There’s no one there to watch him and appreciate the cleverness. No eyes to witness his growth, no ears to hear his quips.

“Fuck!” Stiles swears, steadying himself on the wall.

This is a disaster. He’d let his rage get the best of him. He’d made a rash, impulsive decision. He could have done this differently. He’d been so unbelievably stupid.

“Stiles?”

Stiles freezes as the familiar voice calls to him.

_A ghost?_

He slowly turns his head to see Theo, without a scratch on him, sitting on the floor and massaging his temples. There’s no blood, no marks on him. Nothing.

“What are you doing up?” Theo asks, frowning.

As if none of it had just happened.

It’s then that Stiles notices the carvings on the wall all glowing in a dull green hue. He turns back to where his palm is still pressed flat against one of them. As he peels his hand away, the glow fades.

“Oh, just...thinking…” Stiles says, almost to himself. He then then turns to face Theo again and asks sweetly, “Do you have a headache?

“Yeah.” Theo mutters, grimacing slightly.

“Come here, baby.” Stiles coos, settling down on the floor beside him.

He reaches out, and pulls Theo against his chest. Theo’s so tired he simply melts into it. His body feels solid. Cold to the touch, but definitely living. Stiles can feel his stolen heart beating at a slow and methodical pace. His temperature warming as the moments crawl by.

“I think we’re going to stay here a little while.” He muses, staring at the looming carvings once again.

As Theo slowly falls back asleep, Stiles eyes begin to memorize the runes in front of him, the whole while constructing a new plan.

If Scott’s still the one holding him back, then the way to move forward is obvious.

~&~

“What the fuck?” Theo rushes down the stairs, slamming the basement door behind himself. “If you wanted to play with the girl at least close the damn door! The neighbors already hate us enough as it is.”

Stiles stands, extinguishing his flames and turning towards Theo. “First of all. You know damn well that bitch Becky across the street has been cheating on her husband for months. The Hendersons always leave their trash cans out way too long and don’t even get me started on the fucking Johnsons.”

“You literally kill people and you’re bitching about-?” Theo stops short, his eyes falling to the crumbled form on the floor.

“Is...is that _Harden_?”

“Nope. Someone else entirely, last name Shit Sherlock, first name No.”

Theo’s eyes snap to Stiles, staring at him in disbelief..

“Oh, come on!” Stiles waves his hand in the air. “That was funny!”

“How did you even find her?”

Stiles shrugs, making his way over to the table of instruments in the corner of the room. The heretics regret, breast ripper, and batogs but where the hell did he leave that damn tuning fork?

“You obviously have some sort of plan or you wouldn’t have dragged her down here.”

Stiles glances over his shoulder, stifling a giggle as Theo tries not to look at Hayden twitching on the floor. This isn’t just a random passerby that Stiles has plucked off the street, it’s still someone Theo has history with, and he’s fought Stiles for less worthwhile individuals.

Given the disgusting amount of weakness Theo has been displaying lately, Stiles has little doubt that he feels a degree of responsibility for her.

He pauses, hoping that Theo will be stupid. That he’ll try be a hero and save her too.

Theo sees him watching and smiles, turning away from Hayden entirely. “So what’s the plan?”

Stiles tsks, disappointed but at the end of the day he shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing beats Theo’s instincts for self preservation...or maybe he’s just waiting for a better opening. It’s hard to tell sometimes.

“You’ll see. Now where did I leave that tuning fork...oh!” Stiles extends a hand, letting loose a stream of words in Ancient Egyptian, hieroglyphs shimmer into existence in the air at his call.

Blocking out the surrounding world, Stiles carefully pushes past the layers of reality until he feels his fingers close around what he needs. Pulling back is the difficult part, a single mispronunciation or bumping into something on the other side could end up costing him his arm. He exhales, banishing the ancient magic as he clasps the tuning fork over in his hand.

Theo stares at him.

“Did...did you just pull that from the Duat?” He asks, disbelievingly.

Well, at least Theo didn’t have his head stuck up his ass the _entire_ time they were in Egypt last year.

“I had to cut a deal with Osiris and Baron Samedi just to gain access to it but it’s great for charging items.” Regardless of civilization, death deities were all the same. They always wanted the same thing. Everytime he accessed any realm of death, Stiles could feel their presence ready to rip his soul from his body if their price isn’t met. Were he to check his garden, Stiles knows he’ll find that two of the bodies have vanished from their place in the dirt. He’ll need to restock soon at this rate.

Nothing compares to the stupid look of confusion on Theo’s face when he’s at a loss for words.

Stiles begins to draw on the magic dwelling within the tuning fork, forcing it to grow and elongate until it’s roughly the size of a spear.

“Okay,” Theo pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re building strength, so that means something big is coming. But why do we need Hayden?”

Stiles grins. Yup, Theo was angling for the long play for Hayden’s life.

“You know how your dearly departed parental figures could find people based on their frequency?” He raises the tuning fork high above his head. “Hayden here has a connection to someone I’ve meaning to check in on.”

Theo’s eyes widen, it’s at that moment that Stiles strikes. Before the chimera can utter a word, Stiles drives the blunt end of tuning fork through Hayden’s back. Her lips part in a wordless scream as he pushes it straight through her body into the ground, Stiles thinks he may have driven it through one of her lungs.  

He steps back, snapping his fingers and sealing her wound. He can’t have her dying before he’s done.

“Now comes the fun part.” Stiles whispers a few words in Latin and a large round mirror, roughly the size a car tire appears on the basement wall.

“Stiles, what are you-”

Stiles ignores him, placing a hand on the back of Hayden’s neck and pulling on the magic now dwelling within her body.

This is unexplored territory, he could have used a thousand other methods but no, Gerard had believed the loss of a beta to their alpha was like losing a limb. Hayden’s appearance was the perfect opportunity to test that theory and check in on his former best friend all in one go.

Plus there was always the added benefit of knowing this was going to be absolute _hell_ for Theo. The magic of the Duat is timeless and unpredictable, closing his eyes Stiles allows it to flow through him using his own body as a conduit and forcing it into the mirror.

He has to grit his teeth, even though he’s prepared for this but the bombardment of different frequencies is almost too much to stand. He can see them like strands of light in darkness, each and every one connected to someone in Hayden’s life. He doesn’t bother with the brightest strand, it’s certain to be her sister and Deputy Clark is hardly worth even a moment of his time.

Stiles begins to sift through them. The majority of them are useless. People she’s met since moving to New York, friends from class, the baristas at the cafe down on 5th, and various officers at the station.  

There!

Distant from those closest to Hayden’s current life but still shining, one a violet shade of gold and the other a deep strand of crimson. Stiles grins, letting his eyes flutter open.

Scott and Liam.

“Get ready, Theo.” Stiles says, glancing at the chimera, who scowls at him.

Stiles rallies his strength pulling all that he can, using the the mirror to open a window into Beacon Hills.

But there’s resistance.

This is a surprise. Someone has placed wards around the entire county, they’re strong too but Stiles shatters them with ease all the same. This is intricate spellwork. Layer upon layer of runes within the warding that Stiles doesn’t recognize but the way it’s arranged, this pattern, it’s almost like...code.

“Oh I can’t wait to come home.” Stiles grins, wide and feral. They must have some new help on their side. The feel of it is familiar, but Stiles can’t quite place it.

Not that it matters. He’ll easily dispatch whatever sorry excuse for a witch Scott has tried to replace him with..

The mirror glows with light, Stiles lessens the pressure of his magic, watching as an image begins to take shape at last.

He sees the familiar trees of the preserve and on it’s worn dirt path, none other than Scott and Liam on what looks like a morning run.

As expected, Theo sucks in a quick gasp beside him. Stiles glances at him quickly.  He should feel vindicated in the pained look in Theo’s eyes as he sees Scott for the first time in years, but it still makes him angry. It’s like Theo’s transfixed, frozen in place, staring.  

“Anyway, me and Nolan are super excited.” Stiles turns his gaze to the sound of Liam’s voice in the mirror. “I’ve never been part of a wedding before.”

“That makes two of us.” Scott responds with a smile so bright that Stiles wishes he could reach out pull his teeth out one by one. “I’m just glad my mom’s happy, it’s still hard to believe though. Her and Chris, I mean. Never saw it coming.”

“Yeah, maybe because it’s _gross_.” Stiles scoffs.

Liam nods in agreement, keeping pace as he runs alongside Scott.

“The whole pack is going to be there right?”

“Yeah, I don’t really know the details but Lydia’s handling everything so I’m sure it’ll be perfect.” He’s smiling, Scott is smiling. Stiles’ skin itches with barely contained fury.

“Perfect? Oh Scotty, I’ll be sure to make it a wedding for ages.” Stiles muses.

“Stiles,” Theo finally finds his voice. “What are you-”

“Shut up, Theo I’m trying to pay attention to this boring ass conversation and you’re interrupting with boring ass questions isn’t making it any easier!!”

“So, are you taking anyone as your plus one?” Liam asks.

Scott’s smile falters for a moment.

“Nah.” He says, in an offhand tone that not even Liam is able to buy. “I want to just be able to focus on Mom and Chris. You know, keep it about the family, not about dating.”

“I mean,” Scott quickly corrects himself. “Not that you shouldn’t take Nolan. But like, _I_ shouldn’t be thinking about taking a date.”

_Wait, Little Wolf is dating his psychotic co-captain?_

An entirely new array of options to torment the pack buzzes in Stiles mind.

Liam frowns.

“I don’t think that your mom would be upset if you brought a date.”

“Yeah...I know.” Scott says. “You think she wants me to bring someone?”

“I think she’s worried about you.” Liam says. “And, like...I’m kind of worried too. I know you said you don’t want to talk about The-”

_FUCK!_

Stiles is so busy contemplating all the ways he could make them suffer he almost forgot Theo was watching. If that conversation is going in the direction he thinks it’s going he needs to close the portal _now._

If Scott is still broken up about Theo, there is _no way_ he’s going to let Theo know that.

He raises his hand. Theo, sensing what he’s about to do, dives to stop him, but he isn’t fast enough.

Stiles snaps his fingers and Hayden’s head is sliced clean off her shoulders by an invisible blade. The last thing shown in the portal before it closes for good, is Scott McCall falling to his knees with a blood-curdling scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and constructive feedback is always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Y'know, I always bitched a about "Stiles gets kicked out of the pack" stories and yet here I am writing one. So, the tags will vary chapter to chapter and be-forewarned this is going to get very, very dark.


End file.
